


As Time, Unending

by LdyAnne



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Challenge Response, Drama, F/M, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-06
Updated: 2011-11-06
Packaged: 2017-10-25 18:42:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/273523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LdyAnne/pseuds/LdyAnne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is taken as a slave in the war with Geldar and gifted to the Princess Elizabeth.  Rodney is the ship's captain who loves him.  Can they find happiness in a world torn by war and hate?</p>
            </blockquote>





	As Time, Unending

**Author's Note:**

> While this is nominally set on Earth (at least in my head), I have chosen to not use Earth-bound countries that anyone would recognize for my fic. Instead, I have chosen to name my countries Hallona and Geldar. Any resemblance to the countries of Hallona and Geldar from the SGA episode 'The Game' is purely coincidental.
> 
> Written for Flashfic's Ancient History Challenge. I suppose it could be said that there are spoilers for Rising in here.

It was a pleasant day for walking. The sun was shining gently for the season and the breeze carried the scent of the trees that bloomed along the shore. John had walked far enough that he could no longer hear the good-natured cries and shouts of his companions as they enjoyed this rarest of days. He hadn't meant to go so far, but the day had been so lovely that once he'd started walking he'd continued, enjoying his time alone.

He paused irresolutely, knowing he should return, and yet not wanting to give up his rare moment of solitude. As if to entice him to stay, the waves washed up over the sand and tickled his toes before rushing back down across the sand to escape back to the sea. John shaded his face with a hand looking out over the water.

He loved the sea – the way the sunlight danced over the waves, the salt in the air, the way the sea could be peaceful and serene one day and wild and tempestuous the next. The sea stretched towards the horizon for as far as his eye could see. And somewhere, far on the other side, was Geldar.

John often wondered what Geldar was like. There were so many stories and rumors and half-truths, it was hard to know what was true and what was false anymore. He would like to go there someday and meet the people of Geldar so he could find out for himself. It had been so long since anyone from Hallona had visited Geldar and returned to tell the tale, no one knew anymore. It would be easy; it was only two days by fast ship across the sea that separated the two countries.

But John wouldn't be going to Geldar anytime soon because Hallona had been at war with Geldar for as long as anyone could remember. John knew that it was a trade agreement gone wrong that had started the war. But it was so lost in their history that he supposed few people besides him knew it anymore.

The only thing that most of the common people of Hallona knew was that because of Geldar they lived in fear of their lives. And with good reason. The Geldar were a fierce enemy. They struck without warning and would take for slaves any who were unlucky enough to be caught in their path. It had been some days since they had been sighted along the shore, but the people of Hallona were cautious. All were cautious, except for John who just longed for a moment to be alone with his thoughts.

Giving in to the impulse to tarry for just a bit longer, John took off his sandals and wriggled his toes in the sand. The day was warm, so he also removed his leather coat and laid it aside. He grinned when he stood barefoot with his arms bared to the sun, clad only in his tunic. If anyone came upon him now, they would take him for a simple peasant, or perhaps a fisherman, one of those who earned their living from the sea.

Soon enough his guard would realize that he was gone and they would track him down. He couldn't even hope that they wouldn't report him to his father. The guard were loyal to the king, not to the Sheppard. If anything happened to their charge, it would be their lives that were forfeit. It was selfish of him to not return to them, he knew, but it was so seldom that he found himself alone. He took his freedom where he could find it.

A distant shout drew John's attention. At first he thought it was his guard discovering at last that he had slipped away from them. Then he heard the sounds of metal on metal and cries of pain. It was a sound he knew all too well for it was the sound of battle.

Without thought for his own safety, John raced back up the sandy shore, breath coming in great gulps; afraid of what he would find when he got there. He was not allowed that far.

He rounded a bend in the shore and discovered a line of men running toward him. He recognized the colors of his enemy – they wore the greys and blues of the army of Geldar. John was brave and he was a fair fighter in battle, but he had no weapons to defend himself and he was cut off from his guard. There was no dishonor in retreat in order to fight another day. He turned and broke into a run heading for the trees that lined the shore. If he could just get there before he was seen... But it was too late, there was a shout and the men – more than he could hope to evade for long, were after him.

He thought they must be a raiding party, sent to wreak terror and havoc and to take slaves. They couldn't be after John himself, there was no way they could know who John was or his importance to the people of Hallona. It was just his bad luck to run into the enemy when he was alone.

John ran as if his life depended on it, for indeed it did. He hoped to lose his pursuers in the thick of the wood. He knew the woods; he had grown up in them and they were as much home to him as his father's royal house. He knew all the secret places and, if he could just get to one of those, he might live to tell his story. If he could evade his pursuers long enough perhaps his own guard would find him.

But there were too many of the enemy soldiers. They pursued him like hounds on the hunt. They were not stealthy trackers – they crashed through the underbrush making enough noise to warn all of their presence and they called out to one another at any sign of him. They didn't need to be stealthy though. They had numbers on their side. Soon they had John trapped, circled around with no escape possible.

They drew in slowly until he was hemmed in all sides. Determined not to let them win their prize so easily, John threw himself at the men surrounding him. He struck one man in the face. The man fell, spitting blood. John took advantage of the man's mistake. He tried to slip through the opening, but another threw himself at John. They crashed together and went rolling, limbs tangled. John kicked out and heard an, 'oof,' as he struck softness. He pushed himself up and another grabbed him from behind. He ignored the despair that threatened to overwhelm - there were too many soldiers; he could not continue fighting forever. Already he could feel his strength flagging.

The arms around his middle tightened and the soldier behind him grunted in vicious satisfaction. John threw his head back as hard as he could and felt himself connect with a thud. The arms around him loosened.

John grabbed the arm of the man holding him. He twisted it around until he heard a snap. He shoved the soldier into those advancing on him, scattering them. He thought he had won free when a body flew at him, tackling him. John went down again, the wind knocked out of him.

The last John saw of his home was the sun glinting on the water as the waves flowed gently back to the sea. Then he was struck from behind and lights exploded behind his eyes. He fell into darkness and knew no more.

~~~~~

The darkness was still complete when next John opened his eyes. His head ached. When he cautiously explored the back of his head with his fingers, they came away wet and sticky.

There was the swaying of a deck beneath him; he could hear the slap of water against wood where his ear was pressed. He was on a boat. The air he breathed was foul with the stench of unwashed bodies and the coppery tang of blood. He could hear the shift of bodies around him. He had been taken by slavers, those most feared by the people of Hallona.

John shivered. He wore only his short tunic and it provided no warmth. He wrapped his arms around himself in an attempt to hold in some of his body heat. He closed his eyes, hoping that when he woke he would be home in his own bed and he would find that everything had been a terrible dream.

~~~~~

John was stiff and sore when next he opened his eyes. Weak sunlight filtered down to the hold where he was captive. Not a dream then.

It was light enough that now he could see the hold was packed with the bodies of his people – old and young, strong and infirm, men and women – the slavers had shown no mercy in who they took. The people huddled close together for warmth and comfort, fear stark in their eyes. John's heart ached for the people crowded in around him. They were his people and there was nothing he could do for them.

A ripple passed through the packed throng and John looked up to see a mountain of a man headed toward him with murder in his eye. The man threw himself down beside John, glaring at those on either side of them until they shrunk away as best they could with nowhere to go, leaving a small pocket of space around the two.

"What the hell did you think you were doing leaving your guard like that?" the man demanded without any other word of greeting.

"Ronon," John said. He swallowed the lump that was in his throat, ashamed at being grateful for seeing the familiar face of his friend.

"Sheppard," Ronon growled.

"Do not call me that here," John growled back keeping his voice low. He really didn't need to fear that anyone would be listening to them though. The people crowded in around them were all too caught up in their own misery to care about what anyone else might be doing.

"Why?" Ronon's sharp gaze took in the suffering and the wounded around them. "Surely these people would take hope to know that the Sheppard is with them."

"What kind of hope can they have?" John hissed back, bitterness thick in his throat. "If our captors find out who I am, they will use my people against me. They will use me against my father. Death is the best I could hope for. No, I must remain just another one of those taken by the slavers, nameless and faceless. Swear to me, Ronon, that you will not betray me."

Ronon glared stubbornly at him, but nodded at last reluctantly. "You know I would never do that," he ground out roughly.

John smiled at him, "I know that, my friend." He put a hand on Ronon's shoulder and squeezed. "What happened?" he asked quietly.

Ronon looked away, "We figured out you'd slipped away quickly enough," he scowled at John. "We'd just set out to follow you when we were attacked. I got away to try and come to your aid when I was taken."

"And the rest?"

Ronon shrugged, "I think most got away, but I don't know. Your father is going to be angry."

John smiled ruefully. That was understating the matter. There was nothing else he could do now. He stood unsteadily, the room rocking back and forth and he didn't think it was just the motion of the boat. "Let us see if we can calm these people somewhat."

~~~~~

Rodney strode across the deck, scowling at the sailors who scurried quickly out of his way.

"How many?" He demanded.

"Over 50," Lorne answered without even looking at him. He was busy watching the sailors around them keeping an eye on things as a good second-in-command should.

"How many injured?" Carson, the ship's doctor, asked with a sideways glance toward the hold.

"Not many," Lorne answered with an unconcerned shrug of his shoulders. "Most are just frightened peasants who gave up without a fight when they saw who we were."

"Really makes you feel like a conquering hero, doesn't it?" Rodney asked bitterly. He watched the choppy waves and the clouds that were accumulating on the horizon with a close eye. The weather was turning and it wasn't going to be good.

"It is war, Captain." Lorne sighed wearily. They'd had this conversation before and they both knew where it would end.

"This isn't the place, Rodney," Carson asserted and Rodney turned his back on them both with an aggrieved huff. It was his way of ending the argument. "What kind of injuries do they have?" Carson asked Lorne again.

Lorne shrugged, "Head wound is probably the worst. It bled pretty good, but head wounds do that. There's some scrapes and a broken bone or two. Our people suffered, too," Lorne pointed out just to make sure the doctor remembered his duty to his own people.

"And I've tended to them. Now, I want to see to the prisoners," Carson's jaw was thrust out stubbornly. He was prepared to do battle if he had to. This was also a familiar argument and Carson was ready with his defense. "Those are people down there. There's no need for them to suffer needlessly."

Lorne held his hands up in surrender, "Doc..." he began. Rodney ended the argument by stalking across the deck and pulling up the hatch that led down into the hold. He waved an impatient hand for Carson to follow him before disappearing down the ladder.

"Oh, come on, Captain," Lorne shouted after him. He gave up, knowing it was no use protesting that the ship's captain wasn't safe down there. Rodney would do what he wanted anyway. He always did.

Carson grinned at the man and then followed his captain.

~~~~~

Rodney went down the ladder expecting to find the hold full of screaming, hysterical prisoners. He was surprised to find it was fairly quiet and calm. Yes, there was the stink of fear and too many unwashed bodies pressed in together. But, instead of the terrified screaming that usually greeted him, the prisoners were sitting quietly huddled together watching him apprehensively. Maybe they were surprised that he didn't have two heads.

As he came down the ladder, one of the men – a tall, lanky man, climbed to his feet in order to glare at Rodney. He was dressed in the simple garments of a fisherman, yet there was something about him that drew all eyes to him. Maybe it was the way his hair stood in crazy spikes in a manner that defied nature. _Only in Hallona,_ thought Rodney sourly. Whatever it was, he commanded attention.

Carson scrambled down the ladder after Rodney. "Bloody hell," Rodney heard him mutter as he took in the stinking, shivering mass of people around them. "Is anyone injured?" he asked.

The man stepped forward and scowled at them. "As if you care?" He crossed his arms defiantly and almost seemed to put himself between Rodney and the rest of the prisoners, except that was just crazy. There was nothing one man could do against so many. All Rodney had to do was shout and the hold would be teaming with Rodney's well-armed men.

"Easy, lad," Carson said, speaking as he did when he was trying to calm a spooked animal. "I just want to help." His questing gaze spotted the dried blood crusted on the man's neck, staining his tunic. "Why don't you let me take a look at your head? Then the rest of these people will see that I mean you no harm."

The man frowned, obviously trying to decide if he could trust them to not just chop his head off. His gaze took in the people around him. Rodney saw him taking note of the cuts and bruises, the limbs held carefully. There were plenty of injuries that needed tending no matter what Lorne said. Carson's help was sorely needed if the people would only allow it. Rodney turned his gaze back to the man, watching him carefully. If _he_ allowed it, for Rodney was certain that if this strangely compelling man said so, the people would willingly submit to Carson's not-so-tender ministrations.

The man finally nodded and edged closer. "Alright, but you won't hurt anyone will you?" He sat on a crate and allowed Carson to probe the back of his head gently. He winced once and that was all the reaction Rodney could see.

"I won't hurt them," Carson said soothingly. "I just want to help."

"If he really wanted to help, he'd just drop us off at the nearest port," an anonymous voice said from the darkness under the stairs.

There was a frightened gasp. Rodney rolled his eyes. Instead of pulling out the anonymous speaker and drawing and quartering him on the spot as the prisoners obviously expected, Rodney turned to Carson, "I'm going back up to the deck and make sure Lorne doesn't run us aground. I'll send someone back down to keep an eye on you and make sure this gang of ruffians don't take you hostage or something equally cliché."

Rodney left him there knowing that Carson was in his element tending to the sick and the wounded. He didn't need Rodney to hold his hand and tell him how to do his job. Rodney did as he promised though and sent down a couple of sailors to keep an eye on the doctor. Usually their passengers were too frightened to put up much of a fight, but Rodney had seen the hulking shape under the stairs that was bigger than any two of his sailors. He really didn't need a hostage situation in the hold. They were damned annoying and always ended badly.

~~~~~

"My name is Carson, by the way," the doctor said conversationally as he probed at the wound under his fingers gently, attempting to put him at ease. The man had courage, that was the right of it. He sat patiently, never betraying his fear or his pain outwardly although Carson could feel the fine tremors that swept through him, ruthlessly contained.

"John," the man said in answer to Carson's unspoken question. Carson rather thought his patient, John, was trying to maintain his calm façade in order to keep the rest of the people huddled in the hold calm. They were all watching avidly, waiting for Carson to hurt him, probably. He knew what happened to some of the slaves taken. Thank God Rodney didn't approve of such things.

A large man appeared from the shadows under the ladder. He towered over everyone in the hold. He would tower over most anyone on the ship, Carson thought. His hair was long and wild with bits of bone and stick woven into it. His skin was dark, darker even than those sailors whose skin was burned to deepest brown. Carson thought he must be one of the wild mountain men he had heard tales of - fiercely loyal to those whom they gave their allegiance; they would fight to the death any who tried to hurt one under their protection. The wild man watched Carson through narrowed eyes.

"You know if you hurt him, you're dead, right?" The man asked conversationally.

"Ronon," John barked at him in warning. "Just ignore him, Carson," John said. "Really, mostly he's just harmless."

Carson swallowed and resolved to work as carefully as he could. He tried again to reassure the prisoners as best he could. "I wish I could let you all go," he said to no one in particular as he worked. "But since that's not up to me, I'd like to keep you lot as healthy as possible until we get to our destination."

"What's the point?" the giant man, Ronon, asked. "We're just all going to be slaves anyway."

There was muffled sobs around them and John hissed, "Stop it, Ronon, you're scaring them."

Ronon scowled fiercely, "They should be scared. We know what happens to slaves of these infidels."

"Ronon." John snapped out and the mountain man subsided. He leaned back against the stairs and sulked while Carson finished his examination of the other man's head wound. Carson let out a grateful sigh of relief when he saw Lorne and Radek coming down the ladder into the hold to keep an eye on him.

"I'd like to get some clean water and some bandages," he said. "Do you think the others will let me look at them without too much fuss?"

John nodded. "I'll talk to them while you're gone." He gave a pointed glance to the guard. Carson nodded at them to leave with him and help him gather the necessary supplies.

~~~~~

"He's a strange one, he is," Carson commented to Rodney at dinner.

"He?" Rodney was intent on the map he had rolled out across the table. The sea was rough and the ship was tossing to and fro. It was difficult keeping things in place unless they were secured. Rodney had his dinner plate on one edge of the map holding it down, eating absentmindedly as he studied the map intently.

"The man with the head wound, John. I think he's more than the simple fisherman as he claims."

Rodney looked up sharply, "What do you mean?" There was a calculating light in his eyes as if he were trying to decide how this could be used to his advantage.

Carson squirmed a little, uncomfortable. He was sorry he'd brought it up. "Just that he's good with the people down there, that's all. He talked to them and convinced them to let me treat them. There have been other times I've tried and the prisoners rioted rather than let me touch them."

Rodney grinned at him, "I know how they feel. Your treatment is only so much voodoo as it is."

"Now, Rodney..." Carson began, but Rodney stopped him.

"So, he's the leader down there?"

Carson nodded. "Seems to be. Along with that big one that stays at his shoulder all the time, like his shadow."

Rodney nodded, "That's good to know. We're sailing into a storm. Maybe he'll be able to keep them calm. I'd hate to have to go down there and restrain them." His mouth turned down in distaste. As much as the human cargo was a necessity of the war between their two peoples, it didn't mean Rodney had to like it. "Do you think he'll talk to me?"

Carson chuckled, "You are the ship's captain, Rodney, I think we all have to talk to you."

~~~~~~

Everyone had settled for the night. The air in the hold wasn't quite so oppressive now that the doctor had seen to their wounds. The people were a little more hopeful, which filled John with bitter rage. There was no hope for any of them where they were going, and he resented the kindness of the stranger who had seen to their hurts and given them baseless hope. Still he could not find it in himself to take away the hope from the people settled around him. It was better to let them cling to whatever comfort they had while they still could.

John and Ronon huddled together for warmth, dozing fitfully. They couldn't quite make it to sleep because the movement of the ship was jerky and erratic. There was a storm coming up. John could feel it in the air, taste it on his tongue. The ship moaned as a wave picked it up like a child's toy and then dropped it back to slap into the water. There was a frightened scream.

"It's alright," he said loud enough that his voice would carry. "This is a good ship. It is strong and sturdy. It will hold up to the storm."

"Do you know ships?" a woman's voice asked from the darkness. John could hear the unspoken plea that he lie to them if necessary to allay their fears.

"I have helped to build ships," he said. And that was true enough in that he had sat and studied plans and watched as his father's great ships were built. "This is a sweet ship, it will hold."

"That's true," a voice called from the hatch in the ceiling. "There hasn't been a storm brewed that can sink _Atlantis._ Would you like to come up on deck?"

John recognized the voice as belonging to the man who had come down earlier with the doctor. His bright blue eyes and intent manner had caught John's attention then.

"If you will allow it," John called up to him.

There was the snapping of impatient fingers, "Well come on, then. I have better things to do than to stand here and talk to a slave all night."

John suppressed the urge to tell him that that was exactly what he was doing. He pressed a hand into Ronon's shoulder as he stood. "Keep an eye on things for me."

Ronon nodded with an unhappy frown as John climbed the ladder and disappeared from his sight.

~~~~~

It was good to get out of the hold and the press of bodies that hemmed him in all sides. John was sorry for deserting Ronon, but not sorry enough to pass up the opportunity he was given. The night was black and the seas around them rough. John stumbled on unsteady legs as he stepped onto the deck of the ship.

It scudded through the water, pushed by the heavy winds that tugged at John's short tunic now that he was on the deck. The seas were high and the waves slapped over the side of the ship, tossing the ship to and fro. John was soaked in short order.

"Here," the man – Rodney, the doctor had called him, thrust a heavier shirt and pants into John's hands. Once John fumbled those on, he was handed a heavy coat that had been treated in something to repell the rain. He was almost warm once he had everything on. Except for his bare feet. But the way the ship was pitching about, his bare feet had more purchase on the deck than if he were wearing heavy boots.

"A storm's coming up," Rodney said watching the sea with a worried frown on his face.

John quirked an eyebrow, "You have a keen eye, don't you?" he said recklessly. He was already on a slave ship, what worse could they do to him?

Rodney jerked to look at John. Instead of the retribution John was expecting, he crooked a smile, his lips slanting down. "Are your people going to stay calm in the hold?" he asked.

John nodded. "They'll be alright as long as your ship will hold."

"It'll hold," Rodney promised with a fond glance for his ship. He turned a considering look toward John then, "Listen, I'm short crew this trip. You sounded like you knew ships. Do you know anything about sailing?"

John stared in awe at the sails that spread out above him like the wings of a giant bird flapping in the wind. Even his father had no ships this big.

There was an impatient snap of fingers from the other man. "Well?" he scowled at John. "Can you help? Or should I put you back in the hold with the others?"

John almost turned and went back to the hold. He was a prisoner, there was no reason he should help those holding him against his will. Except they were all trapped on the same ship. If it went down, his people would drown alongside the people of Geldar. John nodded. "I know a little."

Rodney regarded him with a critical eye. John stood quietly letting the intense blue gaze sweep over him. He must have passed muster because the man snapped again and said, "Help with the sails, then. And don't get in the way. If you don't know something, don't just pretend like you do and kill us all, say so."

He left John standing there as he rushed away to take over the wheel.

"Hey, I'm Lorne," another man said. He took his arm and led John away.

~~~~~

The storm raged for hours.

John stayed busy. He helped to get sails furled and lines tied down. He worked side by side with the men of Geldar as the waves poured over the side of the ship. It rolled from side to side at the mercy of the winds and the waves. Once he was almost swept overboard by a wave that slapped into him and pushed him toward the rail. John scrabbled for a hold when a sailor, Radek, caught hold of him and held on firmly until the ship righted itself and they could both stand again.

John mumbled a thanks which the other man waved off. "You will save me next time," he grinned.

John was certain they would be capsized more than once. But Rodney was always there, snapping his fingers and shouting orders, keeping them right side up almost by the sheer force of his will. He was a force to rival the fiercest of storms. John was in awe, he'd never seen anyone who could sail like Rodney, he seemed to have an instinct for what needed to be done.

In the middle of it – when the rain was pouring down on them and the waves was picking them up like a giant hand, while the lightening was streaking across the sky and the thunder crashed around them – it seemed that the storm would go on forever. But nothing was forever and the storm blew itself out at last.

It seemed a miracle to John when the ship was still on the water bobbing along with all of its sails down, being drawn along with the current. It was the deep of the night, in that time when it was darkest, just before the dawn. John was exhausted with a bone-deep weariness born of hard work coming on top of fighting for his life. He moved along automatically, just doing what needed to be done when he was told.

Rodney was standing at the railing looking out over the water, trying to judge if the storm was going to come back on them when the boom came loose of its rigging. It swung across the deck hitting Rodney square in the back, sending him flying over the rail into the water below. John was the one standing closest. He grabbed up a coil of rope from the deck and sprang to the rail. Throwing a leg over the edge he searched the still-choppy seas for a body, something to throw a line, too, but there was nothing. Had Rodney been sucked under immediately? Would there even be a body to be found? John felt a moment's inexplicable loss for a man he didn't even know.

Then there was a hand on the rail next to him and a voice calling from below, "Help me up."

John leaned out to discover Rodney clinging to the boat by the hand wrapped around the railing. He was white and shaking with exhaustion, he wouldn't be able hang on long. For a second it flashed through John's mind that this man had taken him and condemned him and his people to a lifetime of slavery. He could let Rodney fall to his death and no one would ever doubt when John said that the boom had swept him overboard. Everyone had seen it was so.

He growled at himself for such thoughts. He didn't leave anyone behind, even if they were his mortal enemies. And he didn't think this man was his mortal enemy, not really. It was a great misfortune that their countries were at war and they were forced to be enemies. Were it not for that circumstance, they could have been the best of friends.

John reached down as far as he could and gripped Rodney's arm. "Hang on," he shouted. Rodney nodded that he understood. He reached up with his other hand and grabbed onto John. Their eyes locked and something indefinable passed between them.

Sailors were rushing to their aid and it didn't take long to get Rodney on the right side of the rail. He leaned over, breathing hard.

"You alright?" the man called Lorne asked.

Rodney gulped in another breath or two and nodded. "Thanks to him," he waved a hand in John's general direction.

Lorne nodded gravely. "Thanks," he said to John. He turned back to Rodney and asked hesitantly, "You want me to take him back to the hold?"

Rodney straightened and John thought, just for a minute, he was going to hit Lorne he was so furious. His hand raised high into the air and he shook with his rage. Lorne stiffened, but he stood his ground. The other sailors tensed, waiting for whatever was going to happen. Finally Rodney let his arm fall and all the air seemed to go out of him. He shook his head, "I'll take care of him."

"You know we can't..." Lorne didn't even finish the sentence. John knew what he'd been about to say all the same. He would get no special treatment because he had saved Rodney.

There was sorrow in his eyes as Rodney looked at John. "I know," he said to Lorne, his eyes never leaving John. "And I said I'll take care of him."

With that Rodney jerked his chin toward the cabin located under the wheel of the ship. The captain's cabin.

John followed as Rodney led the way. He stopped just inside the door, not sure what he was supposed to do.

Rodney took off his drenched coat and threw himself in a chair. "I just wanted to thank you," he said.

John nodded. "It was the right thing to do."

"I can't give you any kind of reward for it," Rodney's eyes were troubled.

John regarded him steadily. "I didn't do it for a reward. I couldn't just let you fall like that."

Rodney's blue eyes were intent on John. It made John uncomfortable to be the focus of that intent gaze. "You are a strange one, John," he said at last.

John cocked his head to the side, studying Rodney in turn, "Well I could say the same to you. From what I've heard about slave ships, I'd have expected all the men to be in chains and all the women to be raped by now."

Rodney stiffened. "I'll have none of that on my ship. Even if you are slaves and prisoners of war, you deserve a certain amount of common courtesy."

John smiled, just a little. "Like I said, it takes one to know one."

They stood, staring at one another for what might have been an eternity or it might have only been a second before the room spun and John found himself on his knees. He blinked wearily and found Rodney kneeling next to him, a warm hand on his shoulder steadying him. His hand was large and warm, his grip on John's shoulder sure.

"Are you alright?" Rodney asked anxiously.

John shrugged, as diffidently as he could manage. "Head hurts, I haven't eaten in a couple of days..." he had to work really hard to keep the accusation out of his voice.

Rodney cursed and pushed himself to his feet. John watched in alarm, afraid he'd said something wrong as the other man stalked to the door. He opened it to bark to whoever was standing outside it, "Feed the prisoners. They haven't eaten since we brought them on board."

There must have been an objection because Rodney's eyes narrowed into dangerous glittering slits, something John did not want aimed at him, and growled, "I said feed them. And not the pig slop that prisoners usually get fed. Give them some of that stew that the crew had today. If it's good enough for you lot, it should be good enough for prisoners." He slammed the door and scowled at the room in general.

"Thank you," John said quietly, meaning more than the food. Life for his people wasn't going to get better any time soon, but it could be so much worse in the present.

If anything, Rodney's scowl deepened. He moved across the room to his table and picked up an apple from the bowl in the center and tossed it John. John caught it neatly. He didn't even pause to inspect it for bruises or worms before sinking his teeth into it. The tang burst over his tongue as the juice dribbled down his chin. When he had finished it down to its core, he licked his fingers to get all of the sweetness there.

A groan drew his eyes upward. He found Rodney staring at him, hunger in his eyes. Only John suspected that Rodney wasn't hungry for the apple. He turned his eyes away when he met John's gaze, his ears turning red.

"Here," Rodney hurried to a chest that stood at the side of the table, "let me find you something real to eat. Then I'll check that head wound of yours and get you back to the hold."

Rodney put dishes onto the table. "You should, ah, take off your wet clothes," he rambled as he set out plain bread and a wheel of cheese. It made John's stomach grumble just to see it. It made it easier to think about eating himself knowing that his people's bellies would be filled as well. "Not that I mean I want you to take your clothes off," Rodney stuttered flashing John a gaze filled with hopeless longing and confused embarrassment.

John was torn. This was his enemy. The man had taken him from his home and was going to deliver him into slavery. By all rights, and according to his father, John should hate him. But just the sight of Rodney's blue eyes sent a shiver of desire up John's back. The sight of him in the middle of the storm flashed in John's mind – heedless of his own danger, Rodney had done whatever needed to be done to save his ship and the people on it without thought for his own safety. Now John was noticing that he had a generous mouth that tended to drop into a crooked little slant. John felt a flash of heat when he imagined what Rodney could do with that mouth besides bark orders.

John stood slowly, using the wall to keep himself steady on his feet. "I know what you meant, Rodney," he told the other man. Slowly he got the coat off. Despite the treatment, the rain had eventually soaked it, and he was wet all the way through now. He was shaking with cold and reaction to all that had happened to him.

Rodney brought him a blanket, wrapping it around his shoulders. For just a second John was in Rodney's embrace, their faces just inches apart. It took all of John's control to not lean into Rodney and soak up the warmth the other man exuded. Rodney's eyes were huge as he gazed into John's eyes, uncertain of what to do. John could see Rodney was warring with himself, too. With an abrupt jerk, Rodney moved away. John gave a shuddering exhale and drew the blanket around his shoulders more tightly.

He sat at the table slowly, hesitantly, ready to move if he had read Rodney wrong and he wasn't supposed to sit there. But the other man just nodded at the food he'd set out. He poured two mugs of something hot and spicy and handed one to John. John wrapped his fingers around the metal of the cup and let the heat soak through. For the first time since he'd woke up onboard the ship, he began to allow himself a small thread of hope.

While John ate, Rodney pulled out bandages and poured some clean water into a bowl. He didn't ask permission before he began to pull off the sodden bandage on John's head, but then John didn't figure he had to. He was a slave now. He was a thing that people could use as they wanted. John was grateful for the respite he was being given with Rodney where he could get his bearings and get used to the idea.

The ship was quiet now that the storm had passed. Most of the crew had settled into their hammocks, only the bare minimum left on deck to keep her afloat and sailing on course. The cabin was warm, lit with a lantern that threw shadows into the corner. As they sat in its warm glow, it felt to John that it was just the two of them in the whole world. He was very aware of Rodney standing close behind him, close enough to reach out and touch.

Rodney's touch was gentle as he cleaned up John's wound again. John felt the tickle as Rodney's fingers left the wound and threaded themselves into John's hair. He didn't do anything else; he just let his fingers rest there. Maybe letting John decide what happened next.

John's heart pounded as he stood and turned to face Rodney. Rodney was John's captor it was true, but Rodney was good and kind and decent. This might be John's last chance for a happy memory and he was suddenly determined to take what he could.

Despite the fact that John was the slave and Rodney the master, Rodney shifted uneasily as John leaned in to press their lips together. Rodney paused long enough for John to wonder if he had read Rodney wrong, if this wasn't what he'd wanted after all. Then Rodney slid one hand down to John's neck and tilted his head for a better angle before pressing their lips together again with wild abandon.

~~~~~

Rodney's heart beat wildly. It was insane. He wasn't the kind of captain that took advantage of his prisoners. Just the thought made him nauseas.

Rodney shoved John away stammering, "No, no, no, no," his hands still stroking down John's arm, his chest, wherever he could reach. "I'm not asking this of you as a slave."

John smiled at that and pulled Rodney back in until he could feel John's erection hot and hard against his hip, "And I'm not giving it to you as my master."

Rodney let out a sigh of relief at that, but he still felt compelled to say, "It's just us here, two men, right now, making each other feel good."

John pulled away from him and Rodney frantically tried to figure out what he had said that was wrong. John reached down and pulled off his borrowed shirt taking his own tunic with it. Standing in the flickering light of the lantern, Rodney thought John must be the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, all burnished and glowing. Slowly John unbuttoned his borrowed trousers and pulled out his cock. It was long and thick and hard, already leaking at the end. He stroked a hand down it, "Come on then, make me feel good."

"Oh, gods, yes." Rodney wanted nothing more than that chance.

He moved in again to crush his mouth to John's, licking inside. His hands moved restlessly over John wanting to touch him everywhere. He ran a hand down John's chest letting his nail scrape across the brown nub of a nipple. John sucked in a breath and whined low in the back of his throat, "Please," he pushed on Rodney's shoulder and Rodney let himself be pushed to his knees.

He groaned at the sight of the cock in front of him. John leaned in and smeared the come on its tip across his mouth.

"You were going to make me feel good?" He smirked down at Rodney as he stroked his hand down his length again, slowly.

Rodney leaned in and kissed the tip of John's cock before taking the head into his mouth. He moaned at the bitter salty taste of it. The vibrations caused John to moan, too, and Rodney liked the sounds the man made. He swirled his tongue over the head of the cock and sucked it in as far as he could. John rewarded him with a throaty moan. John's fingers clenched in his hair, wordlessly encouraging him.

Rodney worked the shaft of John's cock with one hand, stroking its length slowly in time with his mouth. With the other he scrabbled at his pants, trying to get his own desperately aching cock out. He breathed in relief when he had it freed and he could work it in the same rhythm that he was sucking John.

Rodney grinned as he felt John try to control the jerking of his hips. It was a failing battle because Rodney just sucked harder, encouraging John to thrust, wanting John to thrust. He looked up through his lashes to find John staring down at him, his face flushed, sweat dripping down his neck. Rodney wanted to suck him and lick his neck and be inside him all at once.

John finally gave up the attempt at being civilized and thrust into Rodney's mouth with a long, full-body shudder. Rodney groaned again as the head of John's cock hit the back of his throat. He swallowed and felt John shudder again. John thrust again and again, his cock sliding hot and heavy over Rodney's tongue. He came at last filling Rodney's mouth, Rodney swallowed greedily, wanting everything John could give him.

Before John was even finished, Rodney's hand on his own cock was pulling and tugging as hard as he could. He was on the edge and he needed to come. John fell heavily to his knees beside Rodney. Twining his fingers with Rodney's, Rodney fucked into their combined hands and came to his shuddering climax at last. John lifted Rodney's hand and licked his fingers clean before he leaned in to kiss Rodney again.

~~~~~

The Princess Elizabeth stared at her reflection in the mirror, her lips tilted into a frown.

"Your hair does not please you, My Lady?" Elizabeth's handmaiden, Teyla, stood behind the princess with a brush in hand. Teyla had been working on Elizabeth's hair for an hour and it had been teased and tamed into little ringlets that framed her lovely face.

"Yes... No... I don't know." She frowned at her reflection again. "I just want my betrothed to be happy to see me."

"I am sure he will be very happy to see you, Highness. After all it has been several months since you have been together." There was a suggestive lilt to Teyla's voice and a distinctive mischievous glimmer in her eye.

"That's just it; I do not think I please him." Elizabeth blushed at the topic, but it had been bothering her for a long time and she had to talk to someone about it. "We have only been together," she stumbled over the words and Teyla giggled at her, "once and that was when we were first betrothed."

"Once?" Teyla's eyes were wide as if she could not imagine such a thing.

Elizabeth blushed even more and would not meet Teyla's eyes in the mirror. "It was so..." she searched for a word but couldn't find one adequate, "I liked it a lot. I liked the kissing especially. But I liked the other, too."

Teyla giggled again, "Oh, I like the other a lot, too," she assured her mistress.

"But then he was gone to war with Hallona for such a long time. When he returned, he was... different. Colder. He is still polite to me, but he says he wants to wait until we are married to do it again." Elizabeth's fingers curled into a fist as she remembered Rodney's polite, distant words.

Teyla giggled again, "I've never met a man who wants to wait."

Elizabeth flushed a deeper red and Teyla dropped to her knees at her mistress' feet trying to make amends, "No, perhaps he is just aware that you are the Princess and he can not treat you as a common handmaiden."

Elizabeth stroked a hand down Teyla's face, "You are anything but common, and I want to know of any man who treats you as such. I will have him severely punished," she said in her most haughty tone.

"I promise, I will tell you," Teyla smiled. "Now, if you want your betrothed to notice you again, we must make sure that you are dressed to tempt him when you go to meet him today."

"Tempt him?" Elizabeth asked.

Teyla's fingers moved to the bosom of Elizabeth's dress. She twitched the demure folds of Elizabeth's gown so that her bosom was more exposed. "Yes, we will show him a little of what you have to offer. Perhaps he will show you how warm he really is."

Elizabeth smiled, pleased at the thought. She nodded. "Yes, I would like that."

~~~~~

Elizabeth loved going to meet her betrothed at the docks. Seeing the great ships glide in always made her heart swell. Seeing her beloved stride down the plank to meet her always made her breath catch in her throat and she would fall in love all over again. He was so handsome in his uniform. She flushed as she remembered what he looked like without the uniform on.

"Princess," he greeted her with a low bow. He was always so formal and he treated her like breakable china. Sometimes it made her want to throw things, to prove to him that she was not breakable at all.

"Rodney," she breathed out his name before she stepped forward and kissed him. She was hoping for so many things. But he was as formal as ever. He returned her kiss with a perfunctory press of his lips to hers. It was not the sweeping embrace that she had hoped for and her heart broke a little in that moment because she finally understood that he would never love her as she did him.

"It is good to see you are well, Princess," he said in his stiff, formal manner.

"We are going to be married soon, Rodney. I think you can call me Elizabeth," she told him tartly.

He startled back a step not used to such a tone from her. She wasn't used to such a tone from her, but she rather liked the reaction. Maybe she had just been using the wrong approach with Rodney all this time. Swept by inspiration she stepped forward and took his arm.

"Do you know, in all the time you've been head of my armies and the Captain of my flagship, _Atlantis,_ you have never taken me aboard. I should like to see it." She tucked her hand in his arm and indicated the gang plank he'd just walked down.

Rodney stared at her, mouth agape and Elizabeth wanted to laugh. "Now?" he asked uncertainly.

"Yes, now." She tugged on his arm trying to get him to move.

"Prince... Elizabeth, we've been out to sea for some time. The ship mostly just stinks right now of sailors and unwashed bodies."

"Really?" She smiled and pressed herself up against him, letting her breasts brush against him. "It sounds quite exciting."

Rodney took a step back putting a proper amount of distance between them. "Princess," he said firmly, "I must report immediately to your father on our successes in battle."

Elizabeth did her best to not let the tears of frustration fill her eyes, but Rodney must have seen something. "I will bring you back tomorrow and give you the grand tour," he promised.

She brightened, "Oh, yes, please."

"And until then, I have a present for you." Rodney smiled. It was a real smile, one that Elizabeth had not seen for many months, maybe years, from her betrothed. It felt like the sun returning after a spell of grey, rainy days.

"You brought me a present?" He'd never brought her a present before that wasn't carefully chosen by his brother.

Rodney waved a hand. A man walked down the plank to stand before her. He was tall and handsome enough with a shock of dark hair that stood up in spiky tufts. His eyes met hers in a moment of frank appraisal, they were the color of the sea during a storm – not green, but not grey either. He dropped his eyes when he saw she was looking at him. When he reached Elizabeth and Rodney, he knelt gracefully at their feet.

"This is John," Rodney said as introduction. His hand went to the man's shoulder and his touch was gentle, almost a caress. "I thought you might like him as one of your household."

"A slave?" Elizabeth stared down at the man at her feet. It wasn't that no one had ever given her a slave before. Teyla was a gift that her father had given her when she had been betrothed to Rodney. It was just that Rodney had never given her a slave. He abhorred slavery. They talked about how to abolish it once they were king and queen upon the throne.

"You don't want him?" There was an odd note of distress in Rodney's voice. Elizabeth rushed to reassure him.

"No, no, he is very handsome. I am sure that he will be a fine addition to my house. I was just surprised that is all." She reached up and kissed Rodney on the cheek. "Thank you."

"You're ah... welcome," Rodney blushed which Elizabeth thought was adorable. "I have another," he waved and another man moved down the plank to join the one at her feet. This one was a behemoth, a mountain of a man who towered over everyone he passed.

Elizabeth gaped at the two men kneeling before her, "I... Rodney, I don't know what to say. Does this one have a name, too?"

The first man looked up at her. "He," he tilted his chin to indicate the other man, "is Ronon. He will protect you with his life, My Lady."

"Well," Elizabeth cast about wildly for something to say. "Why don't I take them home and you can meet with Father?"

Rodney nodded, his hand still on John's shoulder, "It sounds like a plan. I will see you for dinner, Princess?"

"Of course," she answered. She stepped back into her litter which would carry her home, her two new slaves following dutifully behind her.

~~~~~~

After an hour of impatient waiting, Rodney's audience with the king was postponed until the next day. He was grateful for the opportunity to return to his room and rest before he had to go to dinner with Elizabeth. He was exhausted beyond measure.

He hadn't expected it to be quite so hard to give John to Elizabeth. John had gazed at Rodney with such a look of betrayal as he turned to follow Elizabeth back to the palace. Perhaps he would have preferred to go to the mines, which was where most of the prisoners on Rodney's ship were headed. But there was no way Rodney could have allowed that. It was backbreaking work in the mines, and the air was unhealthy. Those sent there didn't live for more than a few months.

Once he reached the sanctuary of his own room, Rodney dropped wearily into a chair. Before he'd even had a chance to relax, Kavanagh appeared at his door.

"Ah, here you are, brother." Kavanagh swept into Rodney's room, taking the chair next to Rodney's, helping himself to Rodney's liquor.

"Don't you ever knock?" Rodney scowled at him. "Just because you are chief advisor to the king doesn't mean you can just come in here whenever you want."

Kavanagh looked over at Rodney with a narrow-eyed regard that made Rodney shiver. His brother was ruthless and would do whatever it took to get his family to the throne. The only reason it was Rodney marrying the Princess was because she made no secret of her loathing for Kavanagh. When the subject of the betrothal had come up, Kavanagh had pushed forward Rodney, the Princess's best friend. It had seemed the perfect solution at the time, and Rodney had been happy enough with it then.

"But I come bearing happy news, brother." Kavanagh practically purred. He stretched out his legs taking his ease.

Rodney refused to take the bait and ask. His brother would not be able to withhold his news for long; he was fairly bursting with it.

"Our good king is dying," Kavanagh told him at last with a surly sneer.

"This is happy news? Does the Princess know?" Rodney did not love her in the way she wished, but she was a good and true friend and her father's death would hurt her a lot.

"She will know soon enough. The king has determined to move up your wedding so that he may see his only daughter happily married before he dies. You are to be married in three days time, brother. Congratulations." Kavanagh's voice fairly dripped with sarcastic sweetness.

"No." Rodney jerked as if his brother had slapped him. "I can't marry the Princess now. I don't love her." Rodney had never said that to anyone before. But he owed it to her to free her and let her marry someone who would love her the way she deserved.

"What?" Kavanagh hissed. He leaned in and wrapped a hand around Rodney's arm jerking him forward. "Love? Who said anything about love, you fool."

Rodney tried to pull away. "Let go of me. I will call the guard."

"The palace guard is loyal to me," Kavanagh hissed at him. "And they will only come if I call them." He gave Rodney a shake. "Now listen to me. I have arranged things very carefully so that you can take the Princess and the throne. I have even 'arranged' for the king's death because the old fool was taking too long to die."

"What?" Rodney whispered. He shrank away from his brother appalled. "I will tell them what you have done."

Kavanagh smiled and it made Rodney shiver. "Oh, do that, brother, and I shall tell them that you ordered me to poison the king so that you could have the throne."

Rodney hung limp in his brother's grasp, barely able to believe what he was hearing. "No one will believe you," Rodney said, desperate to find some way out of the nightmare that he had fallen into.

"Oh, won't they?" Kavanagh let go of his arm, confident that Rodney wasn't going anywhere. He sat back in his chair and sipped his wine. "You are the betrothed to the princess. What would I have to gain by poisoning the king?" He held the glass up admiring the way the crystal sparkled in the lamplight. "After all, I'm already the king's most trusted advisor; I could hardly hope to benefit from the king's death. You, on the other hand..." he let his words trail off. He let Rodney draw his own conclusions.

Rodney couldn't believe that he'd been trapped by his brother. He'd always believed Kavanagh to be a sycophantic liar and an idiot. He knew his brother's ambitions for their family, but Rodney had never thought Kavanagh would stoop to murder to get them there. Now he knew better. And he'd drawn his noose tight around Rodney's neck. Rodney had only two choices – he could marry Elizabeth or die a traitor.

He glared at Kavanagh, hating him more than he'd ever hated anyone in his life. "You've won, are you happy?"

Kavanagh smiled, toasting Rodney in mocking salute. "Oh, very. It makes me so happy to know that my brother will be marrying the love of his life and ascend the throne of Geldar."

"Get out!" Rodney stood in a fury. He pulled Kavanagh to his feet, pushing him toward the door. "Get out!" He picked up the bottle of wine and threw it after him. It smashed against the wall, the wine leaving a trail of red dripping down to the floor.

"Temper, temper, little brother," Kavanagh's laughter rang in the room even after he was gone.

Rodney sank back into the chair, not sure what to do.

"Captain?"

Rodney jerked at the voice. He turned to find John standing at his door. He was dressed as a slave of the Princess's household in bright silks that hugged his body and showed it to its best advantage. Rodney couldn't help letting his gaze linger on John's body – he'd known the sounds John made when he came, he'd seen John writhing in pleasure and knew the taste of his skin. Just looking at him made Rodney hard. John refused to meet his eyes though; he kept his eyes cast down as a proper slave should. In his hand he carried a silver platter with a slip of paper on it. He knelt and presented the platter.

"The Princess desires your presence, My Lord."

Rodney scowled. He hated that John was on his knees, his head bowed subserviently. John was the least subservient person Rodney had ever met. Even in his submissive pose, the lines of his back were taught and his body fairly thrummed with tension. It made Rodney angry to see him there.

"Oh, get up off your knees," Rodney snarled.

"My Lord?" John didn't get up and he didn't raise his head.

"I said to get off your knees and stop calling me 'my lord.'"

John did look up then, but it was to glare defiantly at Rodney. "I think you have forgotten, My Lord, that I am a slave. A slave that you gave away." The betrayed look was back.

"Oh, you are the worst slave ever," Rodney spat. He crossed the room to jerk John to his feet. He slammed him against the wall and crushed their lips together.

At first John was silent and still, but Rodney was stubborn, too. He licked across John's lips demanding entrance. He bit at John's bottom lip and rubbed his erection against John's hip. With a gasp, John opened his mouth, his tongue tangling with Rodney's.

"You gave me away," John repeated as they broke apart to gasp for breath.

"You idiot, they were going to send you to the mines. I couldn't let them do that." Rodney pressed in to kiss John again but John turned his head away. "John," he absolutely didn't whine.

"You are betrothed, My Lord."

The words were like a bucket of cold water. Rodney staggered away. John stayed pressed against the wall, the silver platter still incongruously in his hand.

"It happened a long time ago," Rodney tried to explain. "When we were both young and I thought I loved her. I was wrong, I'm sorry. She doesn't have to know. We can be together, like it was on the ship." Rodney whispered. He stepped close to John needing to be close, to feel his warmth. John put a hand on his face and smiled sadly.

"I'm sorry, Rodney. It was different on the ship. There it was only the two of us. Here... She'd always be between us and I'd feel like your slave. I'm sorry." John leaned in and kissed him softly goodbye. He pressed the paper into Rodney's hands and slipped from the room.

~~~~~

Kavanagh stood outside Rodney's room hardly believing what he'd just heard. He'd started to reenter his brother's chamber to make sure he understood that Kavanagh was deadly serious when he'd seen the slave enter. Curious, Kavanagh had hung just outside of Rodney's door listening to the exchange between his brother and the slave. He wouldn't have believed it if he hadn't heard every word himself.

His brother, Rodney McKay, had fucked a slave – seemed to have some measure of feeling for that slave. It was laughably ironic since Kavanagh knew how Rodney felt about slaves and slavery. He might have to take them for king and country but he didn't have to like it and he absolutely refused to own one. Until now.

It was an interesting development. One that could well be used against his dear brother in order to convince Rodney to cooperate with Kavanagh's plans for their family. And if the slave ended up being a detriment to those plans, it would be easy enough to have him killed.

~~~~~

Elizabeth sat at her window, staring blindly out as the tears slipped unheeded down her cheeks. She had known for some time that her father was not well, but to hear that he was dying had been more than she could take. She didn't know how she was going to go on without him.

"I am sorry to disturb you, My Lady," a voice beside her startled her. Elizabeth found her new slave, John, kneeling at her feet, a cup held in his hand. "Teyla thought you might want something to drink."

She took the cup from him with a murmured, "thank you."

"I will leave you."

"No," the word jerked from Elizabeth. She didn't want to be alone. If she were alone, she would grieve. She would have plenty of time to grieve after her father was dead. "Please don't go."

Obediently, John sank back to his knees, "I am sorry about your father," John said, quietly sincere.

She shrugged, "So am I. I don't think I'm going to be a very good queen."

"Why do you say that?" He rocked back on his heels to peer up at her.

She stared into her cup, swirling the liquid around hoping to read some hopeful sign there as the mystics could, "Right now the most difficult decision I have to make every day is what gown I'm going to wear. My country is in a war I hate and my chief advisor is Kavanagh whom I despise. What am I going to do?"

She didn't expect an answer, but John surprised her, "You are going to be queen, My Lady. If you don't like the war, change it." There was hope burning in his eyes and his voice was steady and sure. "If you don't like your chief advisor, fire him."

"I can do that?" she asked, startled at the idea.

Amusement filled his voice, "You are the queen. Of course you can."

"Oh," Elizabeth fell back against the window embrasure; her whole world suddenly filling up. She and Rodney had talked about so many things; it had just never seemed real before, just a game they played. But now... "But will I be a good queen?" she asked him.

He leaned in and took her hand, "I have watched you these last few days, My Lady, and I think you are going to be a great queen." Elizabeth's heart thrilled to the quiet certainty in his voice.

"But how do you know?"

"I have watched you and you are a tough negotiator, but a fair one. And you have a good instinct where people are concerned. Why just look at Kavanagh."

Elizabeth gave a surprised laugh.

"No," John said seriously. "Your father obviously trusts him, but you do not. Why?"

She thought about it seriously. "He is sly and professes to have my father's best interests at heart, but I don't think he does, not really."

"But how do you know that?" he asked again.

"I... just think... it's a feeling I have," she said slowly. She had no proof, nothing that she could point at and see, 'this is why he is not to be trusted,' but she had disliked Kavanagh for as long as she had known him.

John nodded encouragingly. "It's called instinct. And it is right. You must learn to trust your instincts, Elizabeth, they will not lead you wrong."

She wanted to believe him. "I hope you are right."

He smiled at her easily, "Only history will tell," he said with a sly grin. He stood and bowed before taking his leave.

"John," she called. He paused, turning to look back at her. "Thank you," she said.

He bowed again, "I only speak the truth, My Lady."

~~~~~

Preparations for the princess' wedding swept through the palace.

John had no time to think about Rodney or the fact that Rodney was going to be marrying John's new mistress and John would be forced to see him every single day for the rest of his life, to watch him happy with his Princess, while John was forced to live with the memory of their one night together and the thought of what might have been if their peoples weren't mortal enemies. It could not be any other way, but John found it hard to think of Rodney lying next to the Princess sated and sleepy, curled around her. So he lost himself in the work and tried to push every other thought from his head.

John hated being a slave. He hated the fact that he had been given a relatively easy life when many of his people were forced to live in squalor and deprivation working in the mines. John visited the slaves' quarters whenever he could slip away and offered what comfort he could. He made friends with the cooks in the kitchen and convinced them to give him the leavings from meals instead of throwing it out. He would smuggle them in baskets and leave them to alleviate the worst of the suffering he found there. Sometimes he glimpsed faces he knew – the strangest of those was the doctor from the ship.

"John?" The doctor said when he discovered John there.

John sat at the bedside of a man murmuring to him about the beauty of Hallona, trying to distract him from the pain that wracked his body.

"Doctor," John fell to his knees as was proper for a slave when talking to a freeman. Teyla had taught John and Ronon many of the things they needed to know about life as a slave. John was a little disturbed by her because she watched him intently, a curiously satisfied smile upon her face. It scared him to have her look at him so. But she had also been kind, trying to help to ease them into their new life.

"Now, I'll have none of that here," the doctor scolded. He reached down and hooked John's arm with one hand pulling him up forcibly. "I don't hold to this slave nonsense. And here there's no one to care."

It was true. As a rule no one but the slaves came to their quarters. The doctor was the first person John had seen there that wasn't a slave. The room they were in was reserved for the infirm. The man that John had been speaking with had been struck by the lung disease that felled so many of those that worked in the mine. His skin was pale white and stretched too thin over his bones, his body racked by hacking coughs. The rag the man clenched in his fist was stained with blood.

"Can you help him?" John asked the doctor.

Carson shook his head minutely and drew John away. "There is no help for this sickness once they have started to cough up the blood. Maybe if those affected were removed from the mine once they began to cough they might recover, but..." Carson's words trailed off, his eyes avoiding John's.

"All I can do is try to ease his passing," the doctor said. He pressed a vial into John's hand. "Give it to him in a little wine. He will sleep and never wake." The doctor moved on to the next patient, a man who had been beaten because he wasn't working hard enough to please the overlords of the mine. Carson took out creams and bandages to smooth over the welts in his back.

John stared down at the vial in his hand and then back at the man in the bed. He had once been a colonel in the Hallona army. His name was Sumner and John's father had mourned him greatly when he had been taken. John had seen him from his window often as he worked his men in the courtyard; he had been hale and hearty then, bigger than life. Now he was a husk, withered by the disease that ate away his body, stealing his life.

His eyes were intent on John. He had heard the entire exchange; he knew the purpose of the vial in John's. There was nothing wrong with his mind though his body might be withered beyond hope of recovery.

"Do it," Sumner whispered. He had no voice left; it had been burned away by the cough, but the words were plain nonetheless. "Please."

John knew that he would rather die than lie helplessly in bed unable to care for himself knowing that he was a burden to all around him. He nodded. He went to the basket that he carried from the kitchens. In the bottom was a bottle of wine that still had a cup or so of liquid in the bottom. John had slipped it in when the cook wasn't looking. He had been intending to share it with Ronon and Teyla. Instead he pulled out the stopper and poured in the liquid from the vial. He swirled it around to be sure it was all mixed together.

Sitting on the bed next to Sumner, he eased the man up until he was sitting. Supporting Sumner against his chest, John held the bottle steady so Sumner could drink. John wiped his chin as coughing shook the frail body and he couldn't keep all the wine down. It must have been enough though because soon the coughing stopped and Sumner's body relaxed in John's hold until his head tipped over and his chest failed to move.

John straightened the now-lifeless body in the bed. He covered Sumner with his own fine cloak knowing he could well be punished for losing it and took his leave, his heart heavy with grief.

Of course the first person he met in the hallway outside the room was Rodney. John stopped in shock to see him there, standing incongruously in the slave's quarters. John wanted... But what he wanted did not matter anymore.

"John, stop!" Rodney called as John turned abruptly away.

John knelt, feeling as if he might split in two from the need to run as far away from Rodney as he could get and the need to throw himself at his lover and lose himself there.

"No, gods, John, no," Rodney's voice was full of pain. John was spitefully glad that someone else was hurt by this as much as he was.

"Rodney, please, I just helped a man die, can we not do this now?" John grated the words out, his chest a knot of pain and misery.

"John?"

"Rodney, I can't do this now. Maybe..." John didn't know what maybe. There could be no maybe for them. He made himself remember Sumner dying in his arms.

"John, please. I thought you were just a slave and I'd be able to give you away, but I can't and if Kavanagh finds out..." John didn't know what Rodney was rambling about, but there was too much pain in Rodney's voice for John to ignore. "Come away with me," Rodney pulled John up and pressed him against the wall. "We can run away together. Somewhere that's not Geldar or Hallona. Somewhere where we can be together."

John met Rodney's eyes then. He could see the love and hope shining there. He leaned in and let himself kiss Rodney. He let himself think about a life with the two of them together, exploring the world during the day and nights spent together in each other's arms.

Rodney sensed his victory was close. He stroked John's cheek, "Here you are just a slave and I will be trapped in a loveless marriage. We can go away and explore the world together. Please."

John knew he shouldn't, but he was so full of grief from watching Sumner die, he couldn't do that again. He nodded. Rodney's smile was incandescent. "Thank you," he breathed against John's lips as he caught them against his own. "Thank you," he breathed again as he moved to kiss behind John's ear. His hands were on John's body, too, sweeping up under the silks John wore to smooth over bare skin.

They were in the slave's quarters in the afternoon when most of the slaves were at their duties. The place was nearly empty except for the sick and inform, and none of the slaves would give them notice anyway. But they were far to public for John's comfort. "No," John pushed at Rodney, "we can't do this here, Rodney, someone will see."

Rodney was too far gone in his passion to think. He gazed at John with lust-addled eyes and continued to push in kissing John's neck, his hands wandering into John's pants, palming John's cock and squeezing gently.

John grabbed his hand and pulled Rodney towards a room that John knew would be empty at that time of day. From the corner of his eye, John thought he saw movement but when he turned to look there was no one there.

~~~~~

Teyla hurried through the halls of the palace keeping an eye out for John. She had sent Ronon down to the docks to look for him there. Sometimes John liked to go there and watch the ships come in. She had seen him there once with a lost look on his face, gazing out over the water towards far-away Hallona. She knew from Ronon that he dreamed often of his home. She hurt for him, wishing there was a way to ease his pain; she would bare it for him if she could.

She had looked everywhere she could think of in the palace and now her steps carried her to the slave's quarters. John would often bring them what supplies he could wheedle from the cooks in the kitchen. He also went through the things the palace was disposing of, seeking still usable supplies that could be sent to the slaves – clothes and blankets being the most useful things he found.

She spied him at last as John as was slipping from an out of the way room. But he was not alone. She hid herself in the shadows as she saw that he was followed by none other than the Princess' betrothed, Captain Rodney McKay. Both men were crumpled, John's silks stained and wrinkled. Rodney wrapped a hand around John's neck as he passed him in the door and kissed him.

Teyla stood in the shadows, irresolute, unsure if she should go away and leave the two men or if she should make some noise and warn them that they were not alone. They would probably go unheeded in the slave's quarters, but sometimes others would walk these corridors, they were not completely safe. Before she could make up her mind either way, they parted with a final word and Rodney went on his way. John stood watching him leave.

Before she could lose her courage, Teyla stepped forward. "John," she said to warn him of her presence.

He started at seeing her step out of the shadows. His gaze flickered to where Rodney had just disappeared. "Did you...?" he didn't finish his sentence. His eyes when he turned them back to hers were troubled.

"You do not need to fear what I have seen, John. I have been keeping your secrets for some time now."

John stood silent waiting for her to finish.

"I know who you are, Sheppard," she told him simply.

John looked around hurriedly making sure they were alone. He pulled her into the room he had just left. It smelled sharply of sex.

"You must never say that word here," he told her.

"Ronon told me that, too," she said. "But I do not understand why you do not want the people to know who are. It would give them comfort."

"It would give them comfort to know that their prince is now a slave?" He turned away from her, his voice was harsh.

Teyla went to him. He was taller than her, so tall, as a prince should be. She had to reach up to catch his face. She turned his face so that she could look into his eyes, "It would give them comfort to know that you are alive. Even here, far from Hallona, we heard that the Prince was taken and we have sorrowed. The king was beside himself. He led the troops himself to try and rescue his son. Because of that, the king himself was taken."

"What?" John gasped as if something inside of him had been broken. "Teyla, no."

"I am sorry, my Prince. I was there when the Princess was told. He is in a prison beneath the palace right now."

John drew himself up and in that moment he looked every inch the prince even in his stained and wrinkled silks.

"I must see him," he said simply.

Teyla did not protest or tell him it was impossible. This was her Prince. "I will find a way," she assured him.

~~~~~

John did not question Teyla about how she would get him in to see his father. She said it would happen and so it would. He was not surprised when she came to him after the house was asleep and shook his shoulder to wake him. He sat up, instantly awake.

"Sheppard," she whispered. "It is time."

She held a small lantern to light their way. Behind Teyla, John could see Ronon looming. So much for her not telling anyone.

He nodded and slipped from his bed. He didn't reach for the silk that he wore when waiting on the Princess. Instead he pulled on the simpler garb that he wore when he was helping to tend the fields or at some other hard labor. It was of a rougher weave and would hopefully be unnoticed as they passed through the halls. Although there wasn't really much chance of that. The three of them made an interesting group with Ronon towering over everyone they met and Teyla's small, lithe form. He just hoped they didn't meet anyone who would remember them or question three slaves moving about the palace at night.

Fortune was with them. They made it to the prison without anyone challenging them. Teyla pressed something into the jailor's hand and he unlocked the door for them.

"What did you give him?" John demanded. The only things they had of value were gifts given them by their masters. The princess was kind and generous to her slaves. Teyla often wore jewelry that was a gift from her mistress.

"It is of little consequence if it will aid you, my Prince," she said quietly.

"Don't call me that," he scowled down at her.

She just smiled sweetly at him. She handed him the lantern she carried and indicated the open door in front of them.

John hesitated briefly before stepping into the room. The only light in the room was from the lantern John held; it spread a soft pool of light around him, but its light did not reach the corners of the room. The straw on the floor was dirty and there were shapes moving in it. The room stank of fear and blood. John lifted the lantern higher and spied a huddled shape in the shadows.

"Father?" He called softly hardly daring to think that it was his father in that terrible place.

The figure stirred and blinked up into the light. There was a moment's silence as the man's eyes adjusted to the sudden intrusion of light into his dark world. Then, "John?"

The man pushed himself up and threw his arms around his son. "You are alive," he said into John's neck.

John wrapped his arm awkwardly around his father. Theirs had never been a family who indulged in overt displays of affection. John's father told him he was proud of him often enough and ruffled his wild hair once in a while. But now, his father wrapped his arms around John and held on as if John might escape if he let go.

At last he pulled back, "You are alive." A joyful smile lit up his face.

"I am so sorry, father," John said. "I'm sorry, I got captured, I was careless and walking alone..."

His father stopped the torrent of words with a finger to John's lips. "It is alright. You are alive. That is all that matters."

"No," John protested. "They are going to kill you. They are going to put you on one of their death barges and set it afire. You will burn to death."

His father cupped John's face gently, "But I have seen that the son whom I thought was dead is alive. I will die a happy man."

"No," John insisted stubbornly. He extracted himself from his father's embrace. He went to the door where Teyla and Ronon waited quietly. Drawing them inside, he said, "There must be a way we can help my father to escape."

Teyla and Ronon exchanged a furtive glance. They had already been discussing this.

"Yes?" John snapped impatiently.

Ronon shrugged. Teyla took a deep breath. "It involves Rodney," she said.

~~~~~

John paced the small room waiting for Rodney anxiously. He had no doubt that the man would come. He just hoped that Rodney would listen and help him. There was no reason he should. This plan of Teyla's was dangerous for all of them, but most especially for Rodney. They were slaves and had nothing to lose but their lives. Rodney had so much more to lose. He was willing to give up all that he had for John. John hoped that Rodney loved him enough to give up even more than that.

The door opened and Rodney stepped in. He went to John and kissed him hungrily before pulling him close.

"I have thought of you all day," he said. "We need to leave today, before my wedding tomorrow. Everything is arranged. The boat is ready at the dock and all is prepared for us."

Just for a moment John allowed himself to enjoy the arms surrounding him, the warmth of the body pressed against his. He wanted this, he wanted to go with Rodney and have this every day, but his father was going to die and John could not allow that.

"Rodney, I need to ask you something." John pulled away so he could look into Rodney's eyes.

"Anything," Rodney said immediately.

John took a deep breath and shook his head. "No, don't say that until I tell you what I want." He took a step back so that he was no longer inhaling Rodney's scent. He needed to have all his senses about him, and Rodney's closeness was distracting.

"John?" Rodney asked, concern shining in his eyes.

"The king of Hallona has been taken prisoner, Rodney. Your people are going to kill him."

Apprehension began to dawn in Rodney's eyes. They were such expressive eyes. They always showed exactly what he was feeling; it was one of the things that John loved about him.

"I know," Rodney confessed quietly. "John, I know you want to do something to help him, he is your king. But there's nothing anyone can do."

"You are wrong, Rodney. You can help him. As you love me, Rodney, you have to help him escape."

Rodney took a step back. "John, don't ask me to do this. If they find out about this, they will kill us. There's nothing we can do. Come away with me. Now. This moment."

John shook his head sorrowfully. "I can't, Rodney, he's my king. Hallona has already lost their prince, if they lose their king, too, they will be lost. You have to help me."

Rodney turned away, "John, don't ask me this."

John stepped forward putting his arms around him, resting his head on Rodney's shoulder, "If not you, then who, Rodney?"

Rodney gave a shaky laugh, "Sometimes I wonder who is the slave here and who is the master, John."

"Does that mean...?" John asked barely daring to hope.

"Tell me your plan," Rodney said as he turned and took John's hand.

~~~~~~

Ronon accompanied John as he went to the slaves' quarters for the last time before their escape. He didn't like it. He thought that John should stay near the princess where he had at least the illusion of safety.

But John insisted that he would go even if he had to go alone, and so Ronon went with him. It was his duty to protect the Sheppard. And John was his friend, he would not have allowed him to go alone.

The moment they walked into the hall where meals were taken, Ronon knew that something was wrong. It was normally a noisy place with the people trading stories of their day, there was always much laughter in spite of the fact that they were slaves. But this day, it was silent. The slaves sat eating their meal, very obviously not looking at one another.

Ronon tried to nudge John out again, but he shook his head stubbornly. He went to the common table and took a plate and filled it. Ronon followed him with a sigh. They sat at a table full of people and began to eat.

"What's wrong?" John asked the man sitting next to him, a slave named Markham.

The man gave a surreptitious glance around to make sure they were unobserved. Ronon followed his gaze but could see nothing amiss. "They're here," Markham whispered, staring at his plate.

John looked around, too, and shrugged at Ronon before turning back to Markham. "They?" he prompted nudging the man with his shoulder.

"The palace guard," he mumbled trying to appear as if he wasn't really talking at all. "They're looking for someone, they won't tell us who..."

The door burst open and the guards entered the room swaggering. John and Ronon exchanged glances before doing as everyone else and turning their attention to their food.

The guard prowled around the room. One of them stepped up on a table and people scrambled to get out of his way. "We want the slave named John," he said. "There's a reward in it for whoever tells us where he is."

Even though they all knew who John was the entire room sat in silence.

Markham alone stood up, "John belongs to the princess. Shouldn't you talk with her?"

The guard who had spoken jumped lightly from the table and sauntered over to Markham. "The thing is, this isn't the princess' business, or yours slave. This is My Lord Kavanagh's business and you would do best to stay out of it. Just tell us who he is and we will leave without hurting anyone here."

Markham glared at the man, refusing to back down.

The guard pulled out his knife and laid it delicately on Markham's chest, "Or don't tell us who he is and we'll start by killing you, it doesn't matter to me."

John tensed to confront the guard, but Ronon's hand on his shoulder held him down.

Ronon stood, "I am John," he snarled.

The guard made his way to Ronon. "Are you?"

Ronon smiled at him. "I am."

The guard nodded and turned away for a moment before whirling back a second later. There was a silver flash before a knife buried itself in Ronon's chest. Ronon stared down at the stain of red that spread across his chest.

With a nod to the rest of his men, the guard pulled the knife from Ronon's chest wiping the blade across his arm. Just as swiftly as they had entered, the guard departed.

Ronon collapsed to the table. John ripped the cloth from his own shirt and pressed it to the wound.

"Someone find Carson, see if he's here," he shouted.

Ronon's hand found his. "No good," he said, the light was already dimming from his eyes.

"Why did you do that?" John shouted at him trying to stem the flow of blood. They both knew it was useless but John had to do something.

Ronon shook his head, "Because you are the Sheppard," he said, his eyes closing for the final time.

John laid his head down on his friend's chest and didn't move until Teyla came and took him away.

~~~~~

The wedding of the Princess Elizabeth and her handsome Captain was to be the biggest event Geldar had ever known.

It was the morning of her wedding and Elizabeth sat looking in the mirror. She was surprised to see the beautiful bride that looked back at her.

"Are you happy, My Lady?" Teyla asked as she scurried around at Elizabeth's feet adjusting lace and folds of cloth. She sat back on her heels to peer up at the princess.

"Do you know about them?" Elizabeth asked. Her eyes followed John as he left the room on an errand. He had been silent and withdrawn all morning, barely speaking to anyone.

Teyla's whole body stilled. "Them?" she asked delicately, carefully, not giving anything away.

"About Rodney and John."

Teyla took a breath, her eyes widening in surprise. But she didn't attempt to lie to Elizabeth. "You know?"

Elizabeth nodded unhappily. "I just... I saw Rodney slipping down the corridor so carefully one day like he didn't want anyone to see him. I followed him, I don't know why and... I saw them... They were kissing." Elizabeth thought she might cry. She bit her lip trying to keep the tears from falling.

"I am sorry, My Lady, I know that neither of them wanted to hurt you in this. The heart will love who it will." Teyla twitched a fold of cloth, smoothing it nervously with her fingers. "What are you going to do?" she asked.

"Do?" Elizabeth repeated, unable to think of anything except of her broken heart.

Teyla spoke slowly, choosing her words careful, "Well, you could refuse to marry Rodney, tell what you know. He has hurt you, after all."

"No, Teyla," Elizabeth was horrified at the suggestion. "He would be shamed publicly. And my father would have John beaten, if not killed outright. I love Rodney. I can not hurt him like that."

Teyla looked up at Elizabeth, her eyes brimming with love, "You are going to be a great queen, My Lady," she said.

Elizabeth bit her lip, the hurt tearing her from the inside. She would be a queen without a king. "I must marry Rodney. He has not come to me to say he wants to call it off. So I will marry him, and then we will talk afterwards."

Teyla nodded. There was something more in her eyes, but Elizabeth did not press. Her heart was sore enough for one day. It was supposed to be the happiest day of her life. Instead it would be nothing but a shallow mockery. She stood and allowed Teyla to adjust the folds of the gown around her.

~~~~~

The church was filled to overflowing with guests come to behold the splendor of Geldar's princess marrying her childhood sweetheart. It was such a romantic tale and the people sighed as Elizabeth walked through the streets in her beautiful gown looking every inch the royal princess on her way to marry her fairy tale prince.

Teyla followed along behind her mistress, her heart heavy. She knew what was going to happen; it was, after all, her plan. It would hurt Elizabeth even more than she was already hurt, but there was nothing else Teyla could do. As much as Teyla loved Elizabeth, she loved Hallona and her people more.

She had tried to make her peace with being a slave. Elizabeth had been nothing but kind to her. But when John had stepped into the princess's household, Teyla had known that her life would be changed forever.

Before being taken as a slave, Teyla had been the daughter of a minor lord in the household of the king of Hallona. She had grown up seeing John in the corridors of the palace. She had even had a small infatuation with him before she was captured and taken as a slave to Geldar.

In the months following her capture as a slave, Teyla had dreamed that the Sheppard would ride to her rescue and declare his love for her. But it hadn't happened. Instead, he had arrived as a slave like her and he was in love with one of their captors.

Despite that, he was still the Sheppard in the way he cared about their people. There was no reason for him to go to the slave's quarters. He had his own room in the palace, as did she. But he went there nonetheless, to offer comfort, a gift of himself freely given. He took them food and cast off items that were of no use to the palace – but the worn out blankets were still warm enough, the clothing no longer wanted could be turned into something else, the smashed lanterns still had use and the little bits of candles could be melted together and eeked out a bit longer. It was all treasure to the slaves. And even though they did not know John's true identity, he was loved by them all the same. It was her love for the Sheppard and Hallona that forced Teyla to betray her mistress.

Teyla did not see any sign of anger or malice in Elizabeth's beautiful face as she stepped up onto the dais at the front of the church to join Rodney, putting her hand into his. Rodney looked sad and lost, but he smiled bravely when he saw Elizabeth coming up the aisle towards him. The people in the church murmured because they saw nothing but how beautiful Elizabeth looked, how handsome Rodney appeared in his uniform.

As soon as the couple stood hand in hand, the service began: words were murmured and vows exchanged, songs were sung. Through it all Teyla listened, for what she did not know. As long as the wedding continued, then all was well.

Half way through the ceremony, the disturbance she dreaded happened. The door of the church was flung open and soldiers poured in from the back of the room. The priest came to an abrupt halt and stared at them in outrage. Those seated in the back moved away from the soldiers in fear.

The king pushed himself up from his place at the front of the church. "What is this?" he demanded.

Lorne came forward to kneel at his feet. "I am sorry to interrupt, Your Majesty, but we need the captain right away. The king of Hallona has escaped from his cell."

Teyla's heart began to beat faster; this was not part of the plan.

Rodney kissed Elizabeth on the cheek. "I will be back," he promised. He was a terrible liar; Teyla could read the lie in his eyes. She held her breath as she waited for Elizabeth's reply.

Elizabeth leaned in to Rodney and whispered just loudly enough for Teyla to hear, "Be happy, my love." She stepped away and released his hand.

Rodney blinked at her, unable to move for a moment he was so surprised by her words. Then he turned to follow Lorne down the aisle.

~~~~~

Outside the church Rodney paused. It was unexpected that anyone would discover the king of Hallona wasn't in his cell before they were all safely escaped, but the plan wasn't too far gone that Rodney didn't think he could fix it. Lorne stood expectantly, waiting for his orders. The rest of his men waited patiently, trusting Rodney as they always had. He felt a pang of guilt at betraying their trust. Ruthlessly he pushed it aside. This was for John. Everything was for John now.

"Lorne, I want you to take your men and search the prison. The king might have found somewhere to hide there and he's just waiting for us to leave before he makes good his escape," Rodney ordered his second-in-command.

Rodney thought Lorne might object. He was confident that his second-in-command had already searched the prison thoroughly. He braced himself, ready to bludgeon the other man with his words until he capitulated. But it wasn't necessary. With a tight nod, Lorne nodded and turned on his heel, beckoning for his men to follow him.

Rodney turned towards the dock and tried not to run.

~~~~~

When he reached the dock, all was quiet. There was no sign that anything untoward was happening. Two men waited there as Rodney approached.

"John?" he called hesitantly.

John turned as did the other man. Rodney's breath stuttered as he caught sight of the king of Hallona for the first time and saw him side-by-side with John. The resemblance was unmistakable.

"Rodney?" John took a step forward. "Is everything alright?"

Rodney shook his head, "No, they've discovered your father is gone. We've got to hurry."

"How did you know?" John asked.

Rodney snorted, "Oh, please, you both even have the same crazy hair." Both men reached for their hair with the same aborted movement. "Hurry now, you can explain it to me later how you are the Sheppard of Hallona and you never thought to tell that to the person you were sleeping with."

The king raised an eyebrow in the direction of his son, but he didn't say anything.

Rodney led the way past _Atlantis_ with a pang of regret. There was no way he could escape on her. He would miss her a lot, but she was large and unwieldy and it would take too much crew to manage her. They hurried instead toward a smaller ship sitting docked by itself at the end of the pier. Behind them there was a shout. Rodney looked back the way he had come to see armed men heading in their direction.

"Go," he said to John. He turned back to see if he could head off the pursuit.

John looked like he might object before he turned and obediently did as Rodney asked. It was the only piece of good fortune that Rodney expected. All he could hope for now was to try and to stall the guards long enough for John and his father to escape. They'd never had a chance to be happy, not really. They couldn't buy their happiness by ignoring their duty.

Rodney wasn't even surprised to find Kavanagh leading the men who were headed for the docks.

"Why, brother," Kavanagh called out in greeting. "Imagine finding you here. And isn't that the king of Hallona you were just talking to?"

"You know it was," Rodney snapped at his brother. "I guess this means I won't be marrying the Princess after all. So much for your plans to be the power behind the throne." Rodney almost knew a moment of triumph at the look of pure hatred on Kavanauh's face.

"You always thought you were so smart," Kavanagh snarled. "Well you aren't the only one in the family with a brain, brother." Kavanagh waved at something behind Rodney.

Rodney whirled to see soldiers pouring off one of the ships moored next to _Atlantis._ They were too close to John and his father. There was no way that they were going to be able to make it to the safety of the boat waiting for them.

Rodney shouted "John," and took a step to go to their aid.

Kavanagh growled, "Take him." The men with Kavanagh stepped forward catching Rodney firmly between them.

Rodney could only watch helplessly as John pushed his father towards the boat. Instead of trying to escape with him, John ran towards the soldiers surprising them long enough for John to grab a weapon from one of them. He plunged the blade into the man's heart and the man fell without making a sound. He swung the blade in a wide arc and the soldiers backed up warily to regroup. But it was only a momentary lull before they fell on John from all sides. He fought bravely and there would be more than one soldier of the army of Geldar bearing scars inflicted by John that day. He held them off long enough that Rodney could see the little boat carrying his father sailing away.

Seeing the ship getting away, Kavanagh said spitefully, "They'll never escape. The _Atlantis_ will catch it."

Rodney nearly laughed, "That's where you are wrong, brother. That ship is the fastest we have. Providing the winds stay true and the weather good, they should reach Hallona in two day's sailing."

The crew on the ship was volunteers, sailors selected by John from among his own people. Rodney wished them Godspeed in his heart as he saw John fall to the soldiers who had finally overwhelmed him. They picked him up and he shuffled his feet trying to walk on his own.

Kavanagh's face turned a satisfying shade of red. "Well, at least I have you and your lover."

When they drew near, Rodney shook free of the hands that held him and went to put a shoulder under John's arm.

"Hey," he said softly. "How you doing?"

John, the Sheppard of Hallona, smiled at Rodney, "My father is away, I am fine. You?"

"I almost got married today, but I'm better now."

They walked back to the palace with Rodney supporting John's weight. They were taken to the cell that John's father had previously occupied and left there alone.

~~~~~

The Judgment room was packed with the same people who had come to see the wedding the day before. The story had quickly spread through the city of the lovers who had risked everything to help the king of Hallona escape. All of Geldar was there to be certain that they paid for that crime.

The king was brought in in his litter, too weak now to walk on his own. Elizabeth walked behind her father, already dressed as queen in royal robes. On her head rested the crown of Geldar. She sat in the throne and her father's litter was placed next to her.

The prisoners walked in slowly behind them. John was filthy and bloody but he walked with his head held high. He held hands with Rodney who still looked dashingly handsome in the same uniform he had stood to be married in.

Elizabeth felt as if she could die from the sorrow that was suffocating her when John and Rodney knelt in front of her. John smiled at her, that same confident smile he had given her that morning in her room when he told her that she would make a great queen. Rodney offered his crooked smile, the one she had fallen in love with because it meant he'd done something he was going to have to ask her forgiveness for. Her heart ached for them. Her father had already pronounced sentence on them. They were to die. There was only one more thing she could do for them. She stood, her head held high as all eyes turned to her.

"I know that these two must be punished for their crimes against the people of Geldar. But as Rodney is my dear friend and John a slave in my household, it is my wish that they be allowed to die together. In this way perhaps they will go into the afterlife together, there to live as they were denied in life."

The king nodded his head heavily. He was close to death. He would be dead before the day was over, Elizabeth thought. While she didn't look forward to being queen, she was determined to be the best queen she possible. She would free the slaves and end the war with Geldar. Somehow she would bring peace to their two peoples. It was the last thing she could do for Rodney and John.

~~~~~

It was near to evening as they were taken to the docks for the final time. Teyla had visited them with Elizabeth's last gift to them. In Rodney's pocket was a vial procured from Carson and John carried a bottle of wine they would use for their last moments together. John offered Rodney his hand as they stepped onto the barge. Neither man looked back as they made their way to the bow of the ship where they sat together facing the setting sun and Hallona.

There was no crowd on the dock to witness the execution of the sentence against the two men. It was just Elizabeth and Carson there, along with the new head of her armies – Lorne, and those men necessary to carry out the task at hand.

The line tethering the ship to the dock was cut and the barge was pushed out to sea. When they were a safe distance from the dock, one of the archers on the dock knocked his arrow and took aim. He let loose the flaming arrow and it landed with a solid thunk in the deck of their barge.

John took out the bottle and pulled out the cork. Rodney poured in the contents of his vial and they both drank. They sat in the bow of the little boat holding one another as the darkness stole over them swiftly.

"I'll love you forever," Rodney whispered as he felt his breath slowing.

"We will meet again," John promised kissing the top of Rodney's head for the last time.

~~~~~~

Elizabeth stood back watching in awe as the control chair lit up as they'd never seen it light up before.

Rodney was practically vibrating he was so excited. "Major, think about where we are in the solar system," he instructed.

Above John's head a map appeared, blooming like fireworks. Rodney would say that it was a 3D holographic map of the Milky Way Galaxy. Elizabeth would say that it was a miracle, like lovers reunited after being apart for a thousand years. There was a moment when John and Rodney's eyes met and electricity crackled in the air.

"Did I do that?" John asked, his voice dazed and confused.

Elizabeth watched them in satisfaction. It had taken far longer than she'd thought possible but the lovers were finally reunited, and this time she was determined that they would not be separated again.

And the story begins anew...

  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my beta chocolatephysicist.


End file.
